Mistresses: Bound with Gold / Bought with Emeralds

by Susan Napier;Kathryn Ross;Kelly Hunter;Sandra Marton;Katherine Garbera;Margaret Mayo

  All animosity had left her. She wanted him so desperately, it hurt. Why wait till Christmas? Why wait another whole seven days? Why carry on torturing herself?

  On the other hand, the wait would be worth it. She’d walk into his room on Christmas morning and climb into his bed. It would be a present he’d remember for the rest of his life.

  ‘I’m proud of you for keeping your promise to your brother.’

  She looked at him then, green eyes openly questioning. ‘You are?’

  ‘Absolutely. It couldn’t have been easy.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘Especially as it put our marriage in jeopardy,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘I would have actually told you if you hadn’t offended me by checking my bank account and jumping to all the wrong conclusions.’ She lifted her fine brows in censure. ‘That was despicable, Oliver.’

  ‘I know,’ he admitted guiltily. ‘But my father was convinced you’d only married me for my money. I wanted to prove him wrong—it’s why I checked your account. I saw red when it had all gone.’ He raked his fingers through his hair and dropped his forehead into his palm, hiding his face from her in self-disgust. ‘I couldn’t think why you had any need to take it. I couldn’t think straight, if the truth’s known.’

  ‘So it was Edward again who put a spoke in our marriage,’ she confirmed sharply. ‘I rather thought it might have been. He must have permanently spied on me, looking for something to blacken me in your eyes. He succeeded magnificently.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Oliver, and she could see the pain etched in his face.

  ‘Me, too,’ she admitted.

  ‘Am I forgiven yet?’

  Anna smiled, secretly thinking about Christmas. ‘I’m getting there.’

  ‘Are you close enough to give me a goodnight kiss?’ he asked hoarsely.

  Yes please, clamoured her heart. She smiled, faintly. ‘I think I could manage that.’

  ‘Come here, then.’

  Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible cord, Anna pushed herself up and closed the space between them. Arms reached out for her and she was pulled gently down on to his lap. Then those same arms held her possessively and she lifted her head to look into smouldering gold eyes.

  It was almost her undoing. She found herself wanting more than a kiss—she wanted Oliver, all of him, here, now. And he wanted her! There was no ignoring his arousal. She was sitting on it!

  But incredibly his kiss was gentle. It was tentative, it was exploratory, it was humble, it was hopeful. It was so many things. His hands didn’t rove, his tongue didn’t beg. But even without passion he set her on fire.

  Nevertheless, Anna decided to call a halt. Those extra few days’ breathing space would heighten the pleasure and excitement. And it would do him good to worry a little while longer.

  ‘I’m off to bed now, Oliver,’ she said lightly.

  He didn’t argue, he didn’t detain her, but he looked woefully unhappy and Anna knew that, for all his outward patience, all his repeated apologies, he was suffering badly—and that if she pushed him too hard for too long he might think it wasn’t worth it and call the whole thing off.

  Maybe waiting for Christmas wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe now would…

  But already he was helping her to her feet. ‘You’re usually in bed by this time. What am I thinking? Good night, sweetheart. Pleasant dreams.’

  ‘Goodnight, Oliver.’ She reached up and kissed him again—the first really spontaneous kiss in a long time. And when she lay in bed a short time later Anna found herself riddled with doubts.

  Oliver had paid the penalty. The time had come for her to forgive and forget, to welcome him with open arms into her bed again. It felt so empty and cold without him, despite the electric blanket.

  She wouldn’t need a blanket with Oliver. He would warm her, body and soul—he would set her on fire. Another whole week of sleeping alone in this bed was going to be sheer purgatory.

  The next couple of days she was so busy with last-minute Christmas shopping, decorating the tree she had insisted Oliver buy, bringing in armfuls of holly, doing all the hundred and one things that Christmas entailed, that she fell exhausted into bed each night. And Oliver laid no claims on her either, which was a help although it also surprised her.

  She had thought that he would want to press home his advantage, repeat the kisses, turn it into something more. But no, he contented himself with a brief kiss each night, a kiss that meant absolutely nothing, a kiss that made her extremely disappointed—and also frustrated if the truth were known.

  Two days before Christmas Oliver had a business dinner to attend. ‘I’ll probably be late back,’ he said, ‘so don’t wait up.’

  That was another night taken care of.

  And on Christmas Eve night Melanie paid them a visit.

  She brought a present for Oliver but nothing for Anna. Not that Anna minded, she hadn’t bought Melanie anything either. And she was surprised when Oliver told the other girl that he had something for her.

  ‘It’s upstairs. I’ll go and get it,’ he said.

  Melanie warmed her hands in front of the fire after he’d gone. ‘We had a good time last night at the dinner. Did Oliver tell you?’

  The words were calculatingly casual but Anna felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach, as though all the breath had been knocked out of her. And her first thought was, thank goodness I didn’t go to bed with Oliver.

  Her second thought was that she couldn’t blame him for turning to Melanie when she wouldn’t give him what he wanted. And it answered her question as to why he was so patient.

  And her third thought was that she mustn’t let Melanie see how surprised and hurt she was.

  ‘Of course Oliver told me,’ she replied in what she hoped was her normal voice. It didn’t quite sound like it, but maybe Melanie wouldn’t notice.

  ‘We went back to my place afterwards. Oliver—’

  ‘Melanie!’

  The colour drained from Melanie’s face as Oliver’s appalled voice came from the doorway. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  Melanie turned slowly to face him but her eyes didn’t quite meet his.

  ‘Do you always talk like this to my wife when my back’s turned?’

  The blonde girl pouted and shrugged.

  ‘Anna?’

  But Anna didn’t want to get involved and so she remained silent also.

  ‘Believe me, Anna,’ Oliver said, ‘There is nothing going on between Melanie and myself. Not a thing, not for a long time.’ He crossed the room to Anna’s side and draped his arm about her shoulders.

  ‘This is my wife, Melanie, and I love her very much. I’d like you to remember that. Whatever we once had going between us has been over a long time, and if you’re going to come here to cause trouble then I’d prefer you didn’t visit again.’

  A slow burn flamed Melanie’s face and without saying another word she turned and walked out.

  ‘You didn’t give her her present,’ Anna reminded him quietly.

  ‘She doesn’t deserve it,’ he said harshly. ‘Does she speak to you like that often?’

  ‘Only every time we meet.’

  He groaned and his arm about her tightened. ‘I had no idea. I hope you don’t believe her because there’s not a word of truth in it.’

  ‘I used to,’ she admitted, enjoying the feel of his hard body against her.

  ‘It really was a business dinner. I don’t know how Melanie found out about it.’

  ‘I believe you,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, Anna, my Anna.’ He held her against him for a long throbbing moment. ‘What you’ve had to put up with. I’m so sorry. There’s been nothing between me and Melanie since that day I found her bragging. I’ve felt it a duty to keep an eye on her for my father’s sake, but that’s all. I don’t think I ever really loved her—not the way I love you.’

  It was time.

  The message rang loud and cle
ar in Anna’s head.

  Time to tell Oliver.

  No point in waiting until tomorrow.

  The time was now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  OLIVER had felt appalled when he stood listening to Melanie’s lies. All he could think of was what it was doing to do to Anna, how it was in danger of wrecking their still fragile relationship.

  He’d worked so hard over the last weeks to ensure nothing went wrong. It was half killing him to hold back, to remain patient and attentive, when what he really wanted to do was ravish her lovely body, made even lovelier by the fact that she was carrying his baby.

  This don’t-touch-me rule was driving him insane. And the number of times he’d almost lost control and demanded to know how much longer she was going to keep it up were nobody’s business. Only the fact that he knew he would ruin everything if he did stopped him.

  But how long was a man expected to wait?

  As he continued to hold Anna, his whole body burnt with a fierce flame and he didn’t want to let her go. Another night in bed alone, another night of tormented dreams, and then waking on Christmas morning with no one in bed beside him. How could he bear it?

  ‘Oliver,’ Anna whispered urgently. ‘I’d like to give you your Christmas present now. Will you wait here while I fetch it?’

  He smiled down at her. ‘Of course, but I thought we’d put them under the tree and—’

  ‘This is only a part of it.’

  ‘If it’s what you want.’

  She looked so eager all of a sudden, her eyes alight, her lips parted in anticipation. And so damned sexy, more like the girl he’d first met. Her vitality had been missing, she’d become serious and withdrawn, and it was a pleasure to see her like this again.

  He wondered what the present was that she couldn’t wait to give him. She looked so excited that he knew he daren’t let her down, even if he didn’t like it although he was sure he would since it was Anna’s choice.

  He stood with his back to the fire, his hands behind him feeling its warmth. He heard her light footsteps on the stairs and saw the door coming open.

  After that he was robbed of speech, robbed of breath, robbed of everything.

  All Anna wore was a short, sheer red nightdress decorated with gold tinsel. There was a big green and red bow in her hair and high-heeled green sandals on her feet also decked out with tinsel.

  She was all seductress as she sashayed towards him, her shining emerald eyes locked into his. His heart hammered frenziedly against his breast bone, pulses pounded, but apart from that he couldn’t move a muscle, not even blink.

  He was completely mesmerised by this exquisite creature who came up to him and slid her arms around him and said the words he thought he would never hear again.

  ‘Oliver, I love you. I forgive you; I’m now ready to be yours.’

  He swallowed hard. ‘You are my present?’

  ‘If you want me.’

  ‘If I want you?’ There was no doubt about that. He’d nearly died with wanting her. ‘Oh, Anna,’ he groaned. ‘Anna. This is the best Christmas present ever.’ And his head swooped and he found her mouth and this time there was no holding back, no reservations—on his part or Anna’s.

  Anna had almost forgotten what it was like to be loved by Oliver, forgotten the excitement that trembled through her veins, the heat that invaded her limbs, the hunger that took over.

  His tongue probed with an urgency that thrilled her, it explored intimately and fiercely what had long been denied him. Oliver the lover came back to life, ruthlessly demanding, passionately taking, and her own desires leapt in abandoned response.

  She could actually feel his hands trembling as they sought the contours of her body beneath the thin red layers of fabric, slightly hesitant, as though he was still a fraction uncertain.

  He didn’t need to be. She was his now for all time, and she wanted to reassure him. ‘I really do love you, Oliver, very, very much.’

  His golden eyes were dark with desire as he raised his head, his mouth was soft and moist from her own mouth. ‘You’ve truly forgiven me?’ he asked thickly.

  ‘Totally,’ she whispered. ‘If I carried on the feud any longer, I’d be torturing myself.’

  ‘Oh, Anna,’ he groaned, ‘you don’t know how I’ve longed to hear you say that. This is the best day of my entire life.’

  ‘Let’s go to bed,’ she suggested quietly and huskily.

  His eyes gleamed with fresh desire. ‘Can I unwrap my Christmas present in bed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can I play with my present all night long?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then let’s go,’ he said with a triumphant grin. ‘Let’s not waste a minute.’ He swung her up into his arms and Anna felt the unsteady beat of his heart as he carried her upstairs to his bedroom. She felt the intense heat of his body, the urgency that fuelled him.

  And it was fuelling her! This was better than when they’d first met. It had been exciting then, yes, but this was a different excitement. She knew her man, now—she knew what to expect, she knew his hardboned body as well as her own. She knew how much he could pleasure her and she could pleasure him.

  But in this Anna was mistaken. Everything was so much better than she remembered, and it all began when Oliver untied the bow in her hair.

  ‘Rule number one,’ he informed her with a slow, teasing smile, ‘never tear your wrappings. Always undo with care.’ The ribbon came off and was neatly folded for further use. Next he cradled her face between his palms and kissed every inch of it, slowly and thoroughly, eyelids, nose, the incredibly erogonous zone behind her ears which made her wriggle and moan, and finally he claimed her mouth.

  A long slow kiss, as though he had all the time in the world. He nibbled her lips, he dropped kisses inside her lower lip; his tongue explored, it danced attendance on her own, it created havoc with her senses.

  When he finally lifted his head there was a glittering satisfaction in his golden eyes. ‘Rule number two,’ he said. ‘Make the pleasure last. Explore the gift’s shape before you unwrap it completely.’

  They were standing in front of the mirrored wardrobe and he stepped behind her so that she could watch every move he made—and her reaction to him.

  His hands began at her throat, stroking a slow and tantalising path towards her breasts. Her head fell back against his shoulder, her breathing grew quicker and shallower, and her eyes watched with greedy fascination.

  Her breasts had grown fuller during her pregnancy and were sometimes too sensitive to touch, but at this moment they ached with need, and when his large capable hands closed over them she gave a tiny moan of pleasure.

  Watching through the mirror, Anna saw the way her body wriggled against him, the luminous green of her eyes, the way her face screwed up as though she were in pain. Except that the pain was pleasure—a deep, unadulterated, long-awaited pleasure.

  All this she had been missing; all this he had almost thrown away. It was unthinkable.

  His hands moved lower, over her rounded hips, over her slightly swollen stomach. It was his turn to give a groan of pleasure at that point, and finally he reached the hem of her nightdress.

  Anna waited with bated breath for rule number three.

  She tried to guess what it would be. Perhaps something like—Finally, pull off the wrapper with equal care. Fold it up carefully before proceeding.

  It never came.

  Oliver suddenly couldn’t wait. Her nightdress was yanked over her head and their eyes met in the mirror for one brief heart-stopping second before he effortlessly picked her up and carried her across to the bed.

  It was then a race to get out of his own clothes. It took him about five seconds before he landed on the bed beside her.

  ‘Do you like your gift?’ she asked with a mischievous smile.

  ‘Do I like it?’ he groaned. ‘What a question.’

  ‘I was going to wait until morning, but suddenly I couldn’t.’

&
nbsp; ‘I’m glad,’ he said roughly. ‘I wasn’t looking forward to waking up on Christmas morning with my wife in another room. I think I might have come in and ravished you anyway.’

  ‘I’m glad we’re friends again, Oliver,’ she said, snuggling against him.

  ‘Tonight you’re not my friend, you’re my lover—my very charming, my very enchanting, my very beautiful, my very pregnant lover.’

  ‘Take me, Oliver,’ she urged. ‘Make me yours again.’

  ‘It won’t hurt the baby?’

  ‘No. He needs to know that he’s loved, too.’

  Oliver needed no further encouragement. They lay stomach to stomach, hip to hip, and when he entered her it was with such loving care that it was Anna who went a little wild, Anna who rolled him on to his back, straddling him, riding him, feeling herself go mindless with pleasure when her climax came.

  The next time it was his turn to kneel over her, his turn to take the lead, to bring her to a peak of desire before he finally gave her the release she begged.

  Most of the night they continued to play their love games. It was almost as though they were making up for lost time. But eventually exhaustion set in; their eyes closed, their bodies grew limp and sleep claimed them.

  And when they awoke it was snowing outside.

  As it never—or very rarely—snowed on Christmas morning, Anna saw this as a good omen. ‘Look,’ she said, rubbing a circle in the condensation on the window and peering outside. ‘Look, Oliver. Isn’t it wonderful?’

  ‘I think you’re wonderful. I would never have forgiven me for what I did.’

  ‘Isn’t there some corny old saying about love conquering all? I guess I never truly stopped loving you.’

  ‘Nor I you,’ he said. ‘Come here, Anna, and let me prove it to you.’

  She didn’t need any persuasion, and if it hadn’t been for Mrs Green cooking their Christmas dinner Anna and Oliver Langford would probably have stopped in bed for the rest of the day.

  Epilogue

  Two years later…

  ‘I THINK we ought to go on honeymoon.’ Oliver, lying in bed beside Anna, ran his hand over her swollen abdomen. ‘Before Junior Two puts in his appearance.’